


Flouring Romance

by zzzzzzzo



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzzzzzo/pseuds/zzzzzzzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting sad and alone on Christmas Eve, what better time could there be for serendipity to rear its age old head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flouring Romance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Terri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terri/gifts).



> aaaaaaand here it is, my johnkat secret santa for [terri](http://terrifins.tumblr.com/)! i hope you like it :D  
> [EDIT] TITLE CHANGE BECAUSE I FORGOT A PUN PLEASE FORGIVE MY MISTAKE

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and of all the times for depression to decide to give you a particularly hard kick in the head, it had to choose around Christmas time.

Yeah, you know; what the fuck is wrong with you! It's the holidays, for god's sake, and you have no right to feel like this. In your mid-thirties, with a house that belongs to you on your own, working as a journalist. By all means, you should consider yourself quite lucky. That sadness has no business being there. You just, can't. Help it. It sucks. So here you are, in an armchair by the fire feeling sorry for yourself while your friends are at a party you don't think you have the energy for.

It's not that you want to be alone either. You don't think you can handle so many people at once, many of them intoxicated. But, someone to share the evening with you would be nice. Someone to love. But that's never going to fucking happen, now is it? Sure, there have been quite a few people in your life who have been able to tolerate your constant bitching and shit personality, but it's not like someone's going to just waltz up to your door on Christmas and-

_knockknockknock_

You blink. Wow, okay. That brisk knock had very convenient timing, almost like it was there to cut off your thoughts in a poorly written narrative. You raise an eyebrow. Who could it be? Surely not one of your friends taking pity on you. You certainly haven't hinted at how down you've been to anyone, right? Then, they do all know you well. Annoyingly well, sometimes.

Well, time to find out at any rate. You rise, walk over, and open the door.

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert and this is the last thing you were expecting.

The words to _Jingle Bells_ die in your throat as you stare at the short man in front of you. Even now, taller, putting on some weight, lines starting to form around his eyes, he is so plainly Karkat it is almost startling. How distinctly familiar he is, even after all these years.

Wait, you should probably explain. All this vague referral to recognition, and, god, you even thought 'all these years.' Jeez, you sound like the protagonist of some really shitty novel where they try to be overly mysterious. Right, background time!

You and Karkat were friends as kids. Middle school, elementary school, all the way back to like, before any sort of schooling. You guys were _tight_. Maybe a little too tight, considering that in sixth grade you developed this massive crush on him. Started pining, unfortunately, just a few weeks before Karkat got his first girlfriend, Terezi.

Yeah, way to break an eleven year-olds heart, dude. But, well, you dealt with it fine! You kept being his friend, practically joined at the hip even still. Listened to the whispered tale of his first kiss, nodded along with his complaints when they got in arguments and patted him on the back when they made up.

They broke up in eighth grade. Karkat, of course, was distraught. Almost two years! It was supposed to be, like, forever for him, the fairytale love he had dreamed of. Not something broken off over a text message. Yeah. Not even a freaking phone call.

And you, wicked little teenager shit you were, couldn't help but feel ever so slightly, well, glad. Glad that you might have had a chance. Glad you were his shoulder to cry on. But! You weren't completely awful, duh. You still felt sorry for him, concerned and sad because he was sad and sad Karkat is the not okay Karkat, no more sad, stop at once. And the thing about Karkat was, as you had come to discover, when he feels, he feels _hard._ And this was no exception. He held on to that for quite a while. Long enough that you never got to tell him after a suitable post-break-up wait time. Long enough that he moved before you could confess.

So yeah, coming across his doorstep when caroling due to a dare from Dave? A little uncomfortable. And a lot of unexpected.

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas and this is way too fucking perfect after all your thoughts of a Christmas miracle. It _has_ to be a scam. John, the teen you had way back when begun to develop the slightest crush on, towering over you at your door one lonely Christmas Eve? It's just too. Fucking. Perfect. You must have fallen asleep on the couch, or something.

But, you haven't thought about the guy in years, for fucks sake! Why would you dream about him _now_? Is this real? The boy from way back when coming to confess his long awaited love? Are _you_ the _Love Actually?_

Probably not, but. It doesn't feel like a dream, anyway.

You two have been staring for over a minute now. You have to break the ice already, since it seems that while his height has grown, John's ineptitude certainly hasn't changed.

“Um... John?”

He jumps a little, head shaking a little as if he was physically shaken from his thoughts. The gesture is kind of a lot adorable. That's right, another change? He grew up hot. Like, he had already been cute enough to catch your eye as a kid, but damn son. Wow. Not fair. You flick a stray dread back from your forehead hastily, roll on the balls of your feet.

“Um... Hey Karkat!” he finally says. Okay, it's official, puberty is a fucking biased bitch. It's the only possible explanation for why John gets tall, hot, and a handsomely deep voice all in one while you've remained short and scraggly, with a horse register like you haven't slept in days. Which, okay, you usually haven't, but. Still. “Wow, that's kind of. I did not think you would be here! But, uh...”

“How have, you been?” Your voice cracked. Fuck awkwardness and fuck your life and fuck John. In all the ways, maybe.

“Um... Pretty good!” And he tells you about his job as a computer programmer, and that he and Dave are roommates in an apartment at the moment, and that he's still keeping up with his friends, and you tell him you are too, and how you're a writer for a magazine, mostly doing pieces on romantic advice or book reviews, and he says that's great with this sweet little smile, and all that small talk jazz while all you can think about is how nice he would look curled up on your couch with you, or tilting his head at your scant decorations in that birdlike way he has, and how great it would be to just watch movies and throw snacks at each other like no time has gone by and you're still just two best friends battling the usual hormones and melodrama all teenagers have. But. You. Can't. Things just don't work like that, and it fucking sucks.

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert, and Karkat does _not_ seem happy.

Well, okay, that's not quite it. You mean, yeah, he obviously seems glad to see you. In fact, he's sort of obviously staring, in this way that makes you feel warm in a kind of flushed, glad way. But, that's not all? There's a certain slump to his shoulders, and this kind of somber longing in his brown eyes, that makes you think maybe having something close to his dream job and great friends and a house of his own isn't quite enough. Not in a greedy way, more in a... Like, he can't help being sad kind of way. A 'I'm Karkat and inherently crave company and will probably beat myself up for that until the ends of forever' kind of way. A way that makes you kind of want to hug him forever, but you can't because that would be weird after so long, right? Right.

Doesn't stop you from thinking about it, though. Thinking about that little dark, round nose, and full lips, and how empty his house looks even with the pile of presents under his tree, and how just, everything carries this sort of sad aura, and. You just, really want to...

“Can I come in?”

“Want to come inside?”

You both blurt it out at the same moment, cliché as that sounds. Blink, laugh a little. His eyes look a little softer when he nods, steps aside to let you. Karkat's house... Well, it's pretty sweet he has one and all, but still. It's missing something. Something chipper, something even Karkat would totally love, something festive...

“Dude!” you exclaim suddenly, just as he's closing the door. He jumps, curses under his breath. Gives you a look.

“ _What?_ ”

“We should totally make Christmas cookies!”

“...Again, _what?_ " He shakes head head a little. "Do you always come into other peoples' houses and immediately ask to use their kitchen and mooch off their food supplies?”

You laugh a little. Can't help it, Karkat really is the cooliest. “Nope, I guess you're just special like that. Come on, it's a great idea!”

“...”

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you have a lot of regrets in your life. You are beginning to think you may have to add this evening to your list.

You don't know _what_ possessed you to agree to make cookies with the person you haven't seen in years within minutes of your awkward reunion, but whatever spirit did so is a fucking troll.

You are currently standing, still frozen in disbelief, as flour, that moments before exploded from the fresh bag as you opened it, submerges you and your kitchen. John bursting into snickers is really the icing on the proverbial cake.

You open your mouth to speak, most likely to either despair over the circumstances or scream obscenities to the coldly indifferent universe and end up with a mouthful of flour. John's laughter, which previously could've been passed off as a polite cough, is quickly leaving the socially acceptable range. Hacking and swears mingle in an incredibly unpleasant mess. You almost laugh at the irony of how badly this is going. So much for wooing him, or whatever inkling of a plan you must have had in mind when you went along with this mess.

“Hey.” he speaks softly, repressed glee still hiding in his words. A towel, slightly warm and wet, is dabbed gently around your eyes. Through vision blurred by the flour still clinging to your eyelashes, you find yourself face to face with too much blue, too too close. Your hacking comes to an abrupt stop. John's smile widens. “Why, hello there, madame.”

“Shut the fuck uuup,” you croak after a moment, frowning heavily. John keeps dabbing over the expanse of your face. It feels sorta good. Not in a weird way, just a 'oh hey, warm and slightly damp, that's a little nice and makes me a bit sleepy' way.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Just dandy.”

John snorts, offers you a glass of water, the merciful deity. Mid-gulp, he lets out a surprised exclamation. You jump, nearly choking again.

“What the fuck is it _now?”_

“Ohhh, Karkat!” he coos, clapping his hands delightedly. “Gosh, you shouldn't have. I'm so flattered!”

“ _What?”_

He bites his lip to keep back a fresh laugh, gestures towards you. “You brought me... _flours_.”

 

\---

 

Your name is John Egbert and you and Karkat somehow, miraculously, managed to finally get the cookies in the oven.

Yeah, you're surprised too. Spending time with Karkat and staying on task are a near impossible mix. You're pretty impressed, actually. It only took you two forty-five minutes to mix the simple recipe, cut the cookies in fun little designs, and get them in the oven. If Karkat's flour-astrophe counts, you even got away with only one casualty.

Karkat shuts the oven, steps away as if it's a cursed entity. Yanks off the oven mitts with that exaggerated, diva way of his. “About fucking time _that's_ over.”

“Aww, come on, that was fun!”

He doesn't even dignify that with response. Just turns his head to look at you, in probably the most dramatic and flamboyant way you have ever seen a head turned. You swear, this guy is a literal ray of sunshine. Just, a very sassy one. You send him a wide grin in return, mostly to see that adorable fissure between thick brows when he wrinkles his nose. Too. Cute. God, you just want to... No. Stop. Bad. If you ever _did_ have a chance with him, there's no way it ever could have carried over this long, right? Right.

Still, this prolonged eye contact is making you squirm. You raise your eyes to the ceiling, roll on the balls of your feet. “Soooo... Now what? I mean, they'll bake for a while.”

When you turn your gaze back to Karkat that scowl has faded into a small frown, brows relaxing. His thinking face. You can't believe it's the same as way back when. _So_ not fair. Everything about him is, really. Ugh. Ughhhh.

“...John Egbert and Karkat Vantas have reunited after—what, twenty years?” he finally says, pointedly. “What the fuck do you _think_ we're going to do?”

“...Watch shitty movies?”

“Hell fucking yeah we are.” Smiles ever so slightly.

You are in _so_ much trouble.

 

\---

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are currently curled into John's (yes, _John's_ ) chest, legs resting over his lap. Oh, and did you mention you two are watching _Love Actually_?

Yeah, you know. The situation sounds much too good to be true, especially considering your previous luck. You try not to think about your close proximity too much; it sends your heart racing every time.

John hadn't wanted to watch this. He had enough of this freaking movie when you were kids, apparently, and can't we watch something with just a little action? Please?

Yeah, no, _fuck_ that, this is your house and it's Christmas and you're in a very romantic mood, god damn it. He grudgingly went along with it, not without bitching, of course. This is John you're talking about.

Constant banter and complaints made it hard to focus on the complex intertwining of various people's lives together, but. You're content. Happy, even. The bickering and gradually gravitating closer to each other throughout, the easy closeness and witty retorts and occasional comfortable silences... It's all leaving you practically swelling with warmth. Warm and close and _John_ , fuck, you've really missed this. You just might melt for the sheer _nice_ of it all.

“...Karkat?” John speaks quietly, during one of the lulls of quiet between you two. You crane your neck to look at him. His cheeks look red, though it could be the light of the fire. Even with the movie reflecting on his glasses, he's clearly not looking at you.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, never really got to sing a Christmas carol.”

“Um.”

He. He actually starts to sing _All I Want For Christmas is You._

Softly, under his breath, and he mumbles half the words as if he barely knows the song, and his singing voice sure as hell leaves something to be desired, but. The gesture is cliché and cheesy and horrible and so fucking _sweet_ it takes your breath away, and you can do nothing but stare at him, starry-eyed and mouth half open and smiling like an idiot and drowning in blue when the perfect little shit finally gets around to making eye contact, and you. Just. _Melt._

John finishes the song, voice cracking and bouncing clumsily over the last drawn out note. When he finishes, it feels like all you can hear is the breathing of the two of you, the pounding of your own heart, the sounds of the movie nothing but a distant echo. Close, and then closer, you can feel more than hear his breath now, real and immediate he's barely a hairsbreadth away and you--

_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_

The sudden, deafening screech sends both of you jerking back, hands flying over your ears. The fire alarm.

You forgot the cookies.

 

**Author's Note:**

> psst you can see the full view of the pictures [here](http://imgur.com/whW0asj), [here](http://imgur.com/JiEzK2Q), and [here](http://imgur.com/JBrmWFe)


End file.
